"No," replied Calvert, "and I shall not go."
"The hardness of youth! My young philosopher, when you are older you will be glad to make compromises with Happiness and go to meet her half way. I think you can be a little cruel in your sure young strength, Ned, and a woman's heart is easily hurt," said Mr. Morris, with a sudden, unaccustomed seriousness.
"I am not much of a philosopher. I tried my fortune and failed, and I thought I could bear it, but it is unendurable. Perhaps I shall find it more tolerable away from her," said Calvert, gloomily.
"Then if you won't tempt your fortune further, come to London with me, Ned. I promise you diversion and excitement. There are other interesting things to study besides the 'governments of different European powers,'" and Mr. Morris laughed and tapped Mr. Jefferson's letter, which he held in his hand. "I am not averse to going away myself. Ugh! Paris has become insufferable these days, with its riots and murders and houses marked for destruction. 'Tis the irony of fate that this breeding-spot of every kind and degree of vice known under high Heaven should come forward in the sacred cause of liberty! Besides all of which, Madame de Flahaut has found a new admirer. She swore eternal affection for me, but nothing here below can last forever," he went on, in his old cynical fashion. "I embarrass her manoeuvres, and 'twere well I were away and leave a fair field for my rival." As he spoke, the clock on the mantel chimed the hour of half after eleven.
"'Tis Christmas eve, Ned," he said, getting up. "Perhaps we sha'n't be in Paris for another, and so I propose we go and hear mass at Notre Dame. 'Tis a most Christian and edifying ceremony, I believe. Garat is to sing the Te Deum, so Madame de Flauhaut tells me."
The two gentlemen decided to walk, the night being clear and frosty, and so, dismissing Mr. Morris's carriage, they sauntered leisurely down to the Place Louis XV. and so by the way of the Quai de Bourbon and the Quai de l'École over the Pont Neuf to the great parvis of Notre Dame. Arrived at the Cathedral, the Suisse, in scarlet velvet and gold lace, gave them places over against the choir, where they could hear and see all that passed. Though 'twas midnight, the great church was filled with a throng of worshippers, who knelt and rose and knelt again as mass proceeded. From the altar rose clouds of incense from censers swung by acolytes; now and then could be heard the tinkle of a silver bell at the Elevation of the Host and the voice of the priest, monotonous and indistinct, in that vast edifice. Lights twinkled, the air grew heavy with incense, and great bursts of music rolled from the organ-loft. 'Twas a magnificent ceremonial, and Mr. Morris and Calvert came away thrilled and awed. They made their way out by the old rue St. Louis and the Quai des Orfèvres, and, keeping still to the left bank of the Seine, did not cross until they came to the Pont Royal. From the bridge they could see far down the river and the lights of Paris on both sides of the water. A feathery sprinkling of snow, which had fallen in the afternoon, lay over everything; but the rack of clouds which had brought it had blown away, and the night was frosty and starlit. A tremulous excitement and unrest seemed to be in the keen air.
"Tis a doomed city, I think, and we are better away," said Mr. Morris, leaning on the stone parapet of the bridge and looking far out over the river and at the silent ranks of houses lining its shore. A great bell from some tower on the left boomed out two strokes. "Two o'clock! 'Tis Christmas morning, and we had best be getting back, Ned." Together they walked under the keen, frosty stars as far as the rue St. Honoré, and then, with best Christmas wishes, they parted, Mr. Morris going to the rue Richelieu, and Calvert back to the Legation.
CHAPTER XVI
MR. CALVERT TRIES TO FORGET
It was with the gloomiest forebodings and the doubt whether he should ever see them under happier circumstances, or, indeed, at all, that Mr. Calvert bade farewell to a few friends on the eve of his departure for England. Although he had the greatest power of making devoted friends, yet he was intimate with but very few persons, and so, while Mr. Morris was making a score of farewell visits and engaging to fill a dozen commissions for the Parisian ladies in London, Calvert was saying good-by very quietly to but three or four friends. D'Azay he saw at the Club, and it was not without great anxiety that he parted from him. Calvert had noticed his friend's extreme republicanism and his alliance with Lafayette with grave apprehension, and it was with the keenest uncertainty as to the future that he said good-by to the young nobleman. He was spared the embarrassment of bidding Madame de St. André farewell, for, when he called at the hôtel in the rue St. Honoré to pay his respects to Madame d'Azay, as he felt in duty bound to do, he was told by the lackey that both ladies were out.